


you're the obi-wan for me

by wshxn



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Courtship, Fluff, Kim Jongin | Kai & Oh Sehun are Best Friends, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 19:30:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11743662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wshxn/pseuds/wshxn
Summary: chanyeol thinks he's too cool to be friends with someone as quiet as jongin, but for some reason, he keeps trying.





	you're the obi-wan for me

**Author's Note:**

> _originally written for blondejongins; round one of[puppiesinlove](http://puppiesinlove.livejournal.com/)._

it would be a complete and utter lie if jongin is to say he’s no fan of ‘star wars’.   
  
sehun would sock him in the eye, perhaps even chop his nuts off if he so attempts to even deny his undying love for princess leia ( _curse you and your cool-ass demeanor, han solo!_ ) and the rather complicated friendship between R2-D2 and C-3PO ( _the realest and first true bromance in the history of all things bromantic_ , jongin would argue, to which sehun would reply with,  _i thought ours was, you beastly traitor!_ ).   
  
perhaps being a mere  _fan_  is an understatement, as jongin sleeps on most nights in his 7-day collection of ‘star wars’-themed underwear.  
  
but there are other things jongin likes outside his fandom bubble.  
  
there is his cat, chen, whose feline tendencies of clinging and purring are triggered by the first notes of ‘pony’ (maybe because jongin had seen ‘magic mike xxl’ with her in the comfort of his home), and the sound of running water (that habit is a little odd). there is also the spinach lasagna the cafeteria serves every thursday, and jongin makes sure to wink at the lunch lady to have it served piping hot with extra cream on the side. there is, of course, his best friend, although he wouldn’t admit it quite openly—the friendship goes beyond words as it is embedded in  _saved you some cheerios_  or  _wanna play ‘call of duty’ without blinking?_  but there is also ballet, and jongin dances like his existence is rooted in every step—like he breathes dance.   
  
and then there is park chanyeol.  
  
park chanyeol with his lanky limbs and elfin ears; his smile, his teeth, for god’s sake, and his musical inclination and deep, baritone voice. park chanyeol, his basketball skills, a sport jongin is very much willing to understand, his broad shoulders and toned arms—  
  
‘you have got it so bad, i feel like throwing up a week’s worth of orange chicken.’ trust oh sehun to say the most wonderful things. ‘just, i don’t know,  _talk_  to him. make a fucking  _sound_. he’s annoying the shit out of me.’  
  
while jongin may deny his feelings and a lot of other things in front of a thousand, park chanyeol is straightforward, clumsy, and loud.   
  
some time in november of last year, park chanyeol had so obnoxiously proclaimed his intention to be friends with kim jongin in front of the school populace, hands shaking as he offered jongin a bucket of fried chicken, and a wide, pleading and hopeful smile.   
  
jongin would be lying if he said the gesture didn’t turn his knees to jelly, but it did make him extremely uncomfortable to be at the receiving end of such boldness. sehun had shook him awake from his dazed state as he was gently pulled behind the taller man in a guarded stance. ‘watch it, park. you can‘t just go around forcing  _friendship_  into anyone.’  
  
that was the first time jongin had seen chanyeol’s face fall. he didn’t like it one bit. ‘but kim jongin isn’t just anyone to me.’  
  
that incident didn’t keep chanyeol from pursuing this relationship he’d like to build with jongin. if anything, it inspired him, got him all the more curious of kim jongin and his beautifully executed pirouettes.   
  
he’d pestered sehun, the best friend / soulmate / confidante, and treated him bubble tea in exchange of information. the kid had given him just the simplest of details—his birthday, his height, his id number—and chanyeol realized to win jongin’s friendship was an expensive bargain, and sehun was in it for the free food (the little shit). that, and an adorably oblivious park chanyeol was as entertaining as watching penguins wobble across the ice and frolic in the snow with stiff wings. horribly endearing and annoyingly cute, to say the least.   
  
sehun didn’t think park chanyeol pouted so much, not with every time jongin chose to ignore his frantic waves and cheerful hello’s. it amused him greatly, this seeming dog-chase, and the apparent flush in his best friend’s cheeks was a pretty damn sight to see, to be quite frank.   
  
today is no different, sehun thinks, as he watches jongin trip over his words at the mere mention of his apparent crush. it makes him similar to park chanyeol (or park chan- _yoda_ , as jongin would affectionately call him behind his back) whose ears burned with the very thought of kim jongin.   
  
sehun is, without a doubt, surrounded by idiots.   
  
he gives a jongin a thoughtful smack in the back of his head. ‘jongin. it’s simple:  _just talk to him_. he really,  _really_  likes you way more than you think he does, and you are clearly in lo—like with him. put two and two together and  _boom!_  we get the first true campus drama minseok would  _beg_  to write on the school paper. just. i want to stab my eyes out because of all this denial. let me live. chanyeol has been breathing down my neck to win your attention. i just. can’t. deal.’  
  
see now  _this_  sehun—frustrated, stressed—amuses jongin. ‘listen, C-3. yoda is completely out of my league. i am but a young, unknown padawan.’  
  
sehun gives a dramatic roll of his eyes. ‘you are no padawan, you idiot. between us two, i’m the dirt under your boots.’  
  
‘what?’ jongin gasps exaggeratedly, hand on his chest for theatrics, and palms sehun’s forehead with his free hand. ‘did baekhyun tell you that? that fucker of a boyfriend—’  
  
‘what? no! baekhyun would never.’  
  
‘then what’s with the teenage angst? might i remind you that you’re almost  _twenty_.’  
  
sehun chuckles, pats jongin in the head that causes his glasses to fall over his nose. ‘whatever happens, i’ll be your best friend, right?’  
  
the sincerity in his voice somewhat takes jongin aback with surprise, and he brings a hand to sehun’s cheek and gives it a squeeze. ‘always. you are my C-3PO, after all.’   
  
‘okay, good.  _great_.’ there is a hint of mischief there that jongin chooses to ignore. his sehun—dumb, comical oh sehun—is back, and it shows in the way his fangs appear beneath pink lips as he smiles slowly. ‘kyochon for dinner. what’d you say?’  
  
‘sounds great.’  
  
and it would have been great if, a couple of hours after that same conversation, jongin finds sehun instead of park chanyeol sitting on their usual booth by the window.  _you fucking bastard, oh sehun_. jongin had a few seconds to flee before chanyeol would look up from the menu, but a group of high schoolers accidentally push him towards the cashier, and park chanyeol flashes him a thousand and one teeth and an equally enthusiastic wave as if jongin hadn’t seen him first. ‘kim jongin, over here!’  
  
a clueless and flustered jongin gives a small wave back, flushed red from annoyance and something else that could very well explain the irregular beats of his pulse. he walks towards a very,  _very_  happy and pleased park chanyeol whose tail wagged invisibly between his legs at the sight of jongin approaching his table.   
  
jongin thinks chanyeol couldn’t smile any wider and brighter as he sits across the very man that confuses him, and it shortens his breath. he’s never been this close to park chanyeol before, and there is a perfectly good reason why.  
  
being in the honor roll consistently makes you victim to those who would use you to worm their way through university, bribing answers out of you and receiving backlash when you say no; being a candidate for magna cum laude come graduation puts you on the far end of the spectrum—away from the crowd that makes such ruckus pulling pranks and jabbing jokes at each other with the air of superiority like no one belonged to their circle but them.   
  
as a member of the basketball team—the captain at that—for jongin, chanyeol is put under that category. only sehun, chanyeol’s small forward in his starting five, breaks that stereotype, but only because they’ve been the best of friends practically since birth. sehun may have gained a few nods, more friends, and a larger crowd to swoon over his skills, but he remembers to keep grounded, makes sure jongin eats on time and buys him banana milk when he gets home practice. if there a few things jongin noticed about sehun that changed since he’s been scouted by the team, it would be his height and his incredibly good looks (although jongin would never admit the latter observation out loud).   
  
but chanyeol is unreachable, or rather,  _unattainable_  by those outside his social circle. chanyeol is way out of jongin’s league, to say the least, and this leaves him feeling heavy and yearning. he couldn’t even master the force, what more the law of attraction? and who is jongin but a mere part of the student population? he is a nobody worth knowing or befriending next to chanyeol.  _who’s being dramatic now?_  he could almost hear sehun say.   
  
jongin has always been comfortable where he was away from the spotlight, only gaining recognition when students started wondering about who had caught the attention of basketball superstar park chanyeol. the inevitable has happened—jealous fangirls, curious males who shamelessly catcall him through the windows of the dance studio during practice, violent wannabees who shove him “accidentally on purpose” against the lockers, and he has to lie to sehun every time about the blooming purple mark on his shoulder.  
  
‘jongin? are you alright?’ there is genuine concern etched in the way chanyeol’s lips are curled to a frown, eyebrows furrowed and eyes searching. ‘do you want to go somewhere else?’  
  
chanyeol has never seen jongin look so fragile and vulnerable, as if a simple touch could burn or break him. ‘i’m fine,’ jongin says, but the sadness in his eyes tells chanyeol otherwise. ‘i just didn’t expect you here, chanyeol.’   
  
the smile on chanyeol’s lips disappear, and something inside jongin breaks. ‘what? but sehun—i thought you—he said—’  
  
jongin shakes his head. ‘he told me we’d be having dinner together, so—’  
  
‘i see,’ chanyeol whispers almost inaudibly, and he is looking down on the table, seeing nothing at all. ‘i’m so sorry, i—’ when he finally looks up, the smile doesn’t reach his eyes, and jongin is stupefied by the look of hurt in chanyeol’s features. ‘i—i should go. i’m really sorry. jongin—’  
  
 _no_ , jongin’s mind screams, and his blood runs cold at the tremble of chanyeol’s lips, the quiver in his voice as he apologizes again and bids jongin good bye looking at anything but jongin.  
  
the truth is, jongin wants him there, despite the earlier surprise that left him unguarded and slightly irritated. chanyeol might be oceans and planets away, but he is here  _now_ , and he  _chose_  to be here knowing it was jongin—the nerd of the century, geeky ‘star wars’ extraordinaire and ballet danseur—he’d rather spend his friday night with.  
  
chanyeol stands up to leave, but jongin takes a leap of faith, taking the advice of the great master yoda, ‘do. or do not. there is no try.’ so he gets on his feet, reaching out to tug at chanyeol’s sleeve as he passes with a sense of urgency, also somewhat a  _longing_. ‘don’t leave.’  
  
the confused look chanyeol gives him throws jongin slightly off-guard, and it makes him fumble with words as he shuffles from foot to foot under the taller man’s scrutiny. ‘w—we can still have dinner, if you—if you want.’  
  
chanyeol’s gaze softens, thinks for a moment, and slowly, just like when the sun begins to rise in an early summer morning, he blooms into a smile. ‘i would love to.’  
  
how strange to even have thought about nothing going horribly wrong during this date (as jongin secretly dubbed it), because chanyeol is at his clumsiest, jongin is a fidgety mess of hormones and feelings, and it’s only been a little more than half an hour of being together.   
  
chanyeol accidentally elbows the salt shaker, tipping its content across the table and making jongin yell  _bad luck!_  through a mouthful of honey chicken and rice. the expression has chanyeol laughing obnoxiously, reaching out to pat jongin’s head  _because cute_ , but knocks down his glass of water in the process. chanyeol yelps at the contact, the ice cold liquid seeping through his denim and cooling his skin, and it is jongin’s turn to laugh this time, spilling grains of rice and almost choking on a bone marrow.  
  
when the waitress has come and gone with a damp, dirtied cloth, both have seemingly calmed from their high. jongin still has tears in his eyes from laughing a little bit too much, and chanyeol hasn’t stopped smiling since. he makes jongin laugh once, twice, and soon, he’s on the receiving end of the jokes. he places a couple of soonsal strips on jongin’s bowl halfway through their meal,  _you looked hungry_ , and the color in jongin’s cheeks reminds him of lazy sunsets.   
  
when the cheque comes, chanyeol invites jongin for ice cream, despite insisting to pay for jongin’s dinner. ‘one last trip, i promise!’ and really, jongin couldn’t say no to dairy queen.  
  
they talk about everything, and then nothing at all, the silence oddly comforting for newly acquainted friends, and jongin could almost swear he felt the back of chanyeol’s hand brush against his as they held their ice cream cups up with both hands.   
  
the conversation hardly dwindles, and jongin learns of chanyeol’s interest in the arts ( _mostly painting and sketch_ ) and his dream of becoming a curator of a museum or a music festival. in return, jongin makes chanyeol see the beauty of ballet in his short anecdotes, fingers attempting to demonstrate a  _grand jeté_ , an  _arabesque_ , a  _plié_ ; makes his dream of becoming a professional danseur known by another soul.   
  
for a moment, chanyeol is enamoured by the steady, calculated movements executed by jongin’s hands, but the light in jongin’s eyes say so much more when he speaks of the things he loves. jongin is yet to know that he is truly beautiful, chanyeol wonders, that underneath his shy demeanor, his quietness and seeming lack of social skills, is someone with the beauty of a million mysterious things, and chanyeol can’t wait to unravel each and every one of them. they’ve got time, and something so much more.  
  
from across him, jongin gives him a timid smile, eyes hooded with thick lashes and a hint of bashfulness, and chanyeol thinks he could  _definitely_  get used to this.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 **to: C-3PO**  
[18:37] i’m burning your closet, your mangas/manhwas, and your fucking bed.  
[18:40] i’m disowning you. may chen scratch your eyes and your balls out.  
[21:13] alkgjalfkdjgaldkfjg  
[21:15] he’s great  
[21:17] AND HE FUCKING LIKES STAR WARS   
  
 **to: R2-D2**  
[21:17] ;) you’re welcome.  
[21:17] DETIALS, MOTHERUCKINSFN DETAILSLDMKM JOGNING NMY SMY SON  
[21:19] baekhyun might have gotten a heart attack. he also says he’ll delete everything from your ps4 if you won’t spill. :P  
  
 **to: C-3PO**  
[21:22] lmao. open the goddamn door and you’ll find out.


End file.
